ENTOMBED: DCLXVI: TO RIDE, SHOOT STRAIGHT AND SPEAK THE TRUTH!
ALBUM REVIEW: Like this with The Devil: The (un)Holy Trinity can go to Hell: it's Entombed's fourth album that's the real masterpiece.
ENTOMBED: DCLXVI: TO RIDE, SHOOT STRAIGHT AND SPEAK THE TRUTH
THREEMAN RECORDINGS
1997
We’re in comfortable territory, if we are confessing to blasphemy.
After all, To Ride, Shoot Straight And Speak The Truth! has The Devil’s number in Roman numerals on the cover, so it shouldn’t be a surprise that the unthinkable is being thunk.
My controversy is less about God, but more about questioning the God-like status of Entombed’s first three LPs: Left Hand Path, Clandestine and Wolverine Blues.
They are held up as untouchable - not just for the band, but for entire genres of Death Metal, Death and Roll, Swedish Death… for metal in general.
The one thing you don’t do is suggest that those three albums are anything less than immaculate.
And to be fair, I’m not doing that. I love all three, and I recognise their impact, importance and innovation. No question. My only point is that although it’s convenient to group the first three together as an unholy trinity, it’s the first FOUR albums that are flawless - and To Ride… is actually the best of all of them.
Flame On.
Up to this point, Death Metal - in all its various forms - hadn’t washed with me. I hadn’t even embraced the comparatively accessible thrash of Metallica, Slayer and Anthrax - let alone the Floridian hellspawn of Deicide, Morbid Angel and Death. It was all just silly nonsense to me.
I was weened on the NWOBHM of early Iron Maiden, Saxon and Angel Witch, but by the mid 1980s I had foregone the spandex entirely for Punk, Goth and Grebo. So at the time things were speeding up and becoming all Americanised, I was out of it entirely.
By the 1990s, I was firmly entrenched in the post-hardcore and grungy sounds of Amphetamine Reptile, Touch & Go, SST and Sub Pop. Metal was anathema to the fundamental punk rock spirit of the bands that lit fires beneath me.
So I wasn’t there for the first three Entombed LPs. I read about them, alongside contemporary tales of terror from corpse-painted Norwegian ragamuffins, but it wasn’t until 1995 or 1996 that I started appreciating the lo-fi metal of Scandinavia in earnest.
So maybe nostalgia plays a part. To Ride… was the first Entombed LP I bought. It was the first tour I saw them on. It was my awakening. A wide-eyed revelation that eventually led to a multitude of worldwide influences, loves and fascinations from Darkthrone to Deicide, from Sepultura to Satanic Warmaster.
The thing that got me was the loose filth of the album. It’s such a down-tuned dirge that at first, it feels like wading through mud. And then the swing hits and the wade becomes a swaying gait, motivated by Petrov’s self-effacing lyrics and Nicke Andersson’s rolling drums. Although Wolverine Blues is heralded as introducing Death ‘n’ Roll to the world, there’s nothing on that album that roils and bucks as hard as any track on To Ride…
It’s often, mistakenly, I think, dismissed as a stoner rock influence, but that doesn’t feel accurate to me. There’s nothing bloodshot about the steely gaze you get from these songs. It’s not slack. It’s not laid back. It’s staring you down, confrontational and insisting that you bang your head. It’s fun, infectious and undeniable. Your freewill is taken away. All you have is the groove. It’s metal as fuck, driven by booze, maybe, but not weed.
It has too much life in its death for that.
Side One is perfect. There’s not a single ringer on it. It launches with the backwards tape-like riff of the title track. I challenge you to not bob your head along with the key swinging riff that declines into a chord driven roll to allow Petrov the space to bark:
“Love the fall; no control
They say “it take one to know one”; well I know them all
They say “stupid is as stupid does”;
Guess you’ll always be, if you ever was
I wanna ride! Gun in my hand, God on my side!
I’ve tried. So far no good!
More than a little misunderstood!”
The only grim metal song ever to reference Forrest Gump.
Before Alex Hellid’s lead stutters with an urgency that brings the song crashing to a halt.
There’s quite literally just a second for breath before Jörgen Sandström’s circular bass riff introduces album highlight Like This With The Devil.
Nicke Andersson’s writing is spectacular. It knows its own ridiculousness and embraces the ludicrous nature of metal and Satan and its own subversiveness.
Seeing them live really brought the song to life. Every time LG roared “I’m like this with the Devil!”, he and the entire crowd threw their fists in the air, crossing their fingers and throwing the horns in time with the lyrics.
Everyone grinned. It’s impossible not to.
It’s easy to see how Nicke felt the need to continue to focus on something more rock and roll after To Ride… he was clearly having so much fun with the songs. It was a shame that he left. The songwriting and abandon of these tunes was lost on follow up, the disappointing Same Difference.
The roll returned fantastically on 2000’s Uprising, but the self-aware humour had gone.
Entombed’s loss was The Hellacopter’s gain.
The nagging riff of Lights Out (and the hilarity of its lyrics) thumps along, showing that the band aren’t one trick ponies. It holds its own against the first two songs and feels like a continuation of the groove:
“Look Mom - that body’s got no head!
It’s covered in blood - do you think the man is dead?”
Oh, how we lolled.
Bizarrely, it’s one of the longer songs on Side One at three and half minutes, but it feels like one of the swiftest to pass.
From there to here - Wound is a fast one.
It’s the closest this side gets to the pace of Left Hand Path et al - and it’s chaos - wah-wah noise pastes the aural wall with unrelenting hiss and squeals. Alex and Uffe battling for the title of Noisiest B’stard before their wails unify for the crescendo, that suddenly drops out to a sample, creepily stating that “It is later than you think…” which heralds the slow-paced grind of They.
Four minutes of fuck you.
The chorus picks up to an earworm:
“Well I don’t care…
… I’m just too busy getting from here to there…”
There’s a cracking solo held within too.
The amusingly titles Somewhat Peculiar follows, with its chugging intro riff that drops to a sluggish roll that you can’t help but sway to.
Side One finishes on the astonishingly sensitive piano playing of Petrov’s DCLXVI. It only lasts for a minute and a half, but it brings us down gently from the turmoiling riffage of the preceding six songs.
Side Two begins in fine fettle with Parasight and its clattering, spacious verses, cacophonous chorus and fast-paced delivery. It’s the first song of the album that’s good but not great.
All is forgiven, however. Damn Deal Done - highlight of the second side - follows with its bluesy/Creamy descending riff. It stays in your brain and gnaws away for days. Another wah-solo lifts it to soaring point, before it crashes back down to a filthy chug that takes the song in an unexpectedly varied direction to close. It’s ace.
The pairing of Put Me Out and Just As Sad is the only hiccup on the album. Neither are strong enough to be included next to such esteemed company. I would have been ruthless and kept them for B-Sides, trimming the album to a leaner 12 tracks.
I wonder if that alone would have punched its reputation up? Side Two can make the album feel a bit bloated. It’s my only criticism.
Boats comes next and it is a bluesy grind, written by Alex Hellid. It’s good, but Side Two so far is lacking the one-two punch that Side One has. We’ve had the right hook of Damn Deal Done, but there’s not been a follow up punch to floor us.
That’s not coming with Uffe’s Horrorshow either, sadly. The song’s fine - and it foreshadows the noise-rockier direction Uffe would take the band in for the next record without Nicke, who makes a return, just in time with Wreckage - and we feel sated again.
The album closer is a blistering, soaring, screaming anthem.
The distorted scream of “I’m a wreck!!!!'“ sums up the audience’s self-loathing in three small words.
It’s a banger to bring the album to ferocious close.
Side Two is definitely patchier than the first side, but its highlights really are high.
Entombed would go on to deliver many more fine records. Uprising and Morning Star are particular highlights. The band would split into two factions in 2014, with LG taking members with him to his new venture, Entombed A.D. They released three albums, all of which are worth a listen.
By then, Nicke Andersson was several albums into his garage rock career as guitarist and frontman of The Hellacopters. He also delivers full-on 70s rock via Imperial State Electric and vintage death metal with Death Breath. He’s a restless soul who’s always busy. It’s always worth checking his work out. The drums on future Entombed records never sounded as good as when he hit them and the songs would never again have the wry humour he brought to proceedings. He’s an unsung master.
The Swedish Ambassador for Rock and Roll.
The rest of the band continue to play occasionally and sporadically. Sometimes with an orchestra. They haven’t recorded any new material since 2007.
RG Petrov sadly died of bile duct cancer on 8 March 2021.
My copy of To Ride… is the 2014 Threeman reissue. The packaging is really well presented with thick stock and glossy print-work. The pressing is meaty with well-defined sound.
It’s a truly excellent album, despite a weaker second side. It’s the one I return to frequently. It’s only really rivaled by Uprising for me.
One day it will get the respect it deserves, but until then, you won’t believe your ears but you’ll never forget what they hear!
Excelsior!
Don't forget Andersson's current high rider Lucifer, with his wife Johanna. I saw them a year ago (sans Nicke, who I think may have had problems getting into Canada), with Coven and it was a banger of a night.